Pushing In and Pushing Away
by Doctor Who's Lost Companion
Summary: Sherlock is about to return home from a case when he receives a message from John, his army doctor has discovered his secret and he is not happy. John: RPer Sherlock: DWLC
1. Chapter 1

**Pushing in and Pushing Away**

_ I want a divorce. -JW_

_ What? Where is this coming from? Did I explode the microwave by accident? -SH_

_I wouldn't be saying I want to end our marriage just because you blew up a kitchen appliance Sherlock. -JW_

_ So then I assume you are drunk, because I am quite sure the grounds for our divorce are slim. I haven't cheated and I have been perfectly happy with you this whole time. Our business has been doing well so economical strains are not likely either. -SH_

_I'm not drunk Sherlock. I'm home in our bathroom. Holding a syringe full of a seven percent solution of cocaine in my hand. Something you swore to me before we got married that I would never see in our house again. And I've found three empty ones hidden in a hollow tile under the sink. -JW_

_ We'll discuss this more when I come home. -SH_

_Fine. I'll be packing my things. -JW_

_ No, please, I think that is unnecessary. -SH_

_I really think that's for me to decide. -JW_

When the cab arrived to 221B, Sherlock practically threw the money at the cabby and bounded up the stairs and into the flat.

"John, please, let me explain first... no stop it, you don't have to pack!" he picked up one of the bags and carried it back to the bedroom. John wasted no time in packing his things. By the time Sherlock arrived at the door he had three fully packed suit cases lined by the door. He had planned on texting Harry to ask if he could stay the night but Sherlock pleading stopped him.

"I'm sure you've made a lovely story up about this. So please let me hear it,"

"It's just... I have no story to make up for it, none at all. I wish I had but there's not really any valid excuse for such behavior. Please... please it's just... I didn't know how to quit ok? I have lived with it for so long and I didn't want to involve you... please John, I'm so sorry."

John sighed. "Well at least you were honest. And now I know you've been lying to me this whole time. What a wonderful foundation you've put down for this marriage," he glared at Sherlock.

"I didn't know how to approach you, it seemed easier to leave you out of it. And like you said you only found four, so I wasn't doing it very often, really I swear. I kept it from you so you wouldn't be hurt... in my own foolish way..." Sherlock tried to grin at his stupidity but it faltered under John's gaze, "I never wanted to hurt you, not like this!"

"You shouldn't have been doing it at all Sherlock. You swore. You _swore_ to me. And it's not just the fact that you're still using it's the fact that you lied and hid it from me. Now I can't trust anything you say or have said for that matter. It all could have been a lie. Even us."

"NO!" Not us! Not ever!" Sherlock dropped to his knees and gripped John's trousers, "I never hid anything else from you not ever! This was the only thing and- and- I'll clean up. I'll get better. I'll do anything, just don't leave, that'll only make everything worse. No, no... This is wrong... so wrong..."

John swallowed hard and looked away. "Get up Sherlock." He stepped back pulling himself out of Sherlock's grip. At first he wanted to protest and even opened his mouth to say something, but instead he listened to John. Wiping his face with his sleeve, Sherlock heaved a sigh and tried to look up again.

"I would give up anything if it meant I could be with you John I swear. Believe me... Believe me like you did _After_... this I can never lie about."

"I don't know if I can believe you. You've already lied to me once about this what stops you from doing it again? You already said you don't know how to quit," John looked sadly at his husband.

"I'll do research, I'll get help, I'll find a way, I promise! Whatever it takes, whatever it takes, I love you John Watson," he tried to hold John's hand, though instead, John pulled away and some sort of noise became caught in Sherlock's throat.

"I love... I love... what we have here... together..." another moment went by when he made a decision and his hand curled into a fist, "I'll leave... let me leave and go for help. You should stay here. Of all things you should have the flat alright? How does that sound? Hm? Hold off on that divorce then ok?"

John closed his eyes but still a single tear fell. He gave a curt nod. "I haven't done the paper work yet, but I do _have_ the papers. I'll keep them until you get out of rehab. Once you're cleared I'll tear them up. If you quit I file the papers clear? I love you too Sherlock don't make me fill them out."

"Then I'll leave now. Right now. I'll send you a letter, a message, good bye John," Sherlock said quickly and left before he could say anything else or lose his nerve. He ran. Many people stared at him, waiting for a second man to be bounding after him, but found it curious that he was alone. It was awhile before his legs wobbled and gave way. At that moment it registered where he was, which was Haggerston Park. Resting under a tree his pocket fiddled with the pack of cigarettes that had been remained unopened. They were bought on the day of their wedding because he was so nervous about the ceremony he thought he would need them. Instead Molly caught him and scolded him, saying John would not like to remember their first married kiss with smoke in his mouth.

"Fuck..." Sherlock sighed as he light one.

John just stood there open mouthed and staring. His husband had just left, he just took off without so much as a kiss goodbye. Slowly he walked over to sit down in his favorite armchair and tried to process what exactly had just happened. When it all finally clicked in his mind he sighed and got up to begin unpacking his luggage. It then dawned on him that Sherlock hadn't taken anything. How was he supposed to go to rehab without clothes?

Was he actually going at all. John tired to fight the voice of doubt in his head but it was there and getting louder. By the end of the night John came upon the conclusion that the conversation between him and his husband might have been their last and he might never see Sherlock again. John cried himself to sleep for the first time since the rooftop incident.

Already two different men approached him asking how much he would pay for either their services or the drugs they sold. Tempting as it was Sherlock waved them away, the smoke was enough. Exhausted he ended up falling asleep for the night and it wasn't until a police officer who came about tapped him awake.

"Oi... oi! You ain't supposed to be here, now go home," he instructed as he kept prodding him.

"Yes, yes I will," Sherlock arose slowly, blinking in the light, then remembered all that happened, "Actually... do you know of a good rehab place?"

"Welcome, it is good you have found your way here, might you tell us your name."

"No contact with the outside for the first couple of days, understand?"

"John... John..."

"Aw, damn, it's the withdraws again, poor bloke."

Dear John,

To be honest I am not sure how long it has been, they prefer not to have calendars around here, only clocks. I am at Promis, in Kent. I wanted to message you right away, but they thought it best that I keep quiet or else you might come after me and rescue me. It was all rubbish really. It's nice here I admit, food is not bad, but certainly Mrs. Hudson's is better, and please make some excuse for me on why I am not solving any cases. Other than you Lestrade would be very suspicious, I have come to realize I let him down too, a great deal. Sometimes when we are allowed out, they'll drive us to the shore, by the Marina, and I'll toss some rocks in or just look out into the water. Dreadfully peaceful...

-Sherlock

The army doctor came home from the surgery at six like he did every day and he picked up the mail. Bill, bill, trying to sell something- John almost dropped the mail when his eyes went across a plain white letter addressed to him. The envelop had a scrawl on it and John knew that hand writing well. Sherlock. It was enough to make him rip it open instantly. Hands shaking, he carefully read and re read the letter.

Sighing with relief Sherlock was safe, finally in a rehab and it sounded like he was doing well. The only problem with the letter was the last bit. The "-Sherlock" not your Sherlock, or faithfully or yours but most importantly not "love Sherlock." It sent a pain through his heart. But never the less he sat down at his chair to write a return letter.

Dear Sherlock,

You've been gone exactly four weeks and a day. It's good to know where you are, and they might have been right. I might have tried to take you back home. Are visitors allowed? Would you want a visitor? Lestrade asked once where you were I told him Mycroft had you out working on a case in America.

You know he does not question anything when it comes to him so he bought it. As for your boredom some things never change eh? I don't know if I'm allowed to see you, things other than paper are enclosed, you'll find the crossword from everyday of the Times this week. It sounds like you're doing well. Keep it up.

-John

Dear John,

Four weeks hm? Wow. Visitors are allowed depending on the doctor and their diagnosis. Yes, the company would be good if they allow it, we'll see. As for the America story, very clever of you and the crossword took about ten minutes, thank you. As they say **the truth ****_always comes to light_**_._

-Sherlock

Dear Sherlock,

Let me know about visiting. I'm glad you approve of the story I'm telling people. I estimated ten minutes. I'm putting in today's cross word, Sudoku, and a peculiar obituary. And the truth is not always welcomed once reviled.

-John

Dear John,

Still won't talk to me about visiting yet, and thank you for the additional games. Obituary was fairly interesting. Yes truth is not always welcomed thought **_light_** sheds on everything. _Light _reveals all.

-Sherlock

Dear Sherlock,

Does that mean they think you aren't doing well enough? I thought you might find it a good read. You once told me I was an conductor of light.

-John

Sherlock sighed and nearly tore his hair out, "John you are more clever than this..." finally he picked up his pen again, writing once more.

Dear John,

Yes you are a conductor of **light**, helped show me my bad side. I think I am feeling a bit better, seeing the error of my ways. My drug issues could have been a result from my psychopathic tendencies and my distressing childhood. Also not to mention the hardships we had to go through with Richard Brook and the aftermath of that. I hope to read from you soon, you are the **light** in my life.

-Sherlock

Dear Sherlock,

I fucking miss you. I want you better and I want you home. But I know that takes time. I'll wait however long it takes.

Faithfully yours,

John

"That's it," he muttered to himself and slipped on his ratty sneakers, ones that had been donated of course...

"Hello John," Sherlock said quietly when John walked by, laying his hand on his shoulder from the alley shadows.

"Jesus! What the- Sherlock? What the hell are you doing here? Why... why aren't you in Kent. In rehab?" John started panicking and looked completely confused.

"I can only stay for a moment or two, not long. Yes I am suppose to be in Kent, see," pulling back his coat, revealing the standard garb underneath, "You weren't getting my notes and I had to see you. I guessed you might walk this way when you were done at the hospital."

John looked closely at Sherlock's outfit. Good he was still in rehab. " How the hell did you get out? Wait what do you mean not getting your notes? You sent me four. Did you send more than that?"

"Simple, their security is lacking and not too difficult to get by. I sent you the clues, the Light! You were supposed to hold all my letters up to a source of light," he sighed and shook his head, "I made a bit of a solution concoction of what ordinary people call invisible ink, so yes, you missed all my notes. Look... I just... just wanted to see you and say... just say that I miss you. All of them in there are dull and thick and... they keep diagnosing me as a psychopath! I am not a psychopath, it's sociopath!" Sherlock threw his arms up in frustration and leaned against the brick building.

John chuckled. "I thought that was what you were hinting at. But then I thought it was withdrawals talking instead of you. What did you write me?" He gently took Sherlock's hand. "And I know you're not a psychopath. I'll have your medical records sent over to make sure they're set straight. Alright?"

"I wrote basically what I told you and how much I really miss you. Really, really miss you. They don't care about the medical records, they prefer to go by their own analysis, citing me with a couple of different labels," Sherlock rubbed John's hand and bit his lip, "I really should go, please. I'm sorry John," and started to walk away.

It hurt John to see his husband walk away again. But he knew it was for the best. "Goodbye Sherlock." He didn't know if he could hear it or not, he watched him fade in the distance. John returned to the flat and took out the four letters Sherlock had sent him. He taped each one to the window reading what they actually said:

John, I can't fully write to you what I want, they read the letters. It's rubbish, forced to hide the truth when they want you to be open and honest with them when you can't even trust them. I say the wrong thing or step out of line and they are willing to keep me here longer. Best not to express much emotion. Sorry it had to go like this.

-Love, Sherlock

Dear John, It's maddening in here, nothing to do except group meets and super happy singing sessions. I corrected a couple of doctors about other patient's diagnosis and I had a good scolding. I wish I was home instead. Calling me a psychopath, the twits! Always thinking of you, always sorry.

-Love, Sherlock

Dear John, Looks like you are still not getting my messages, and it is killing me! Come on! I can't blame you, don't worry about it. I have been thinking about running away except then they would come after me and probably keep me longer. Still I'll stay in here as long as it means I can come back.

-Love, Sherlock

Dear John, I was thinking the other day, when I get out we should go for a holiday, somewhere nice. And I know it's not the time or place, though remember we thought about kids and how, how I objected it a bit. It's because I am afraid I will not be the father he or she deserves. Still if I can try, I want it to be with you.

-Love, Sherlock

John finished reading all four letters, and he cried. Nothing had changed at all. Sherlock loved him. Sherlock was going through hell for him. The detective was willingly suffering for John, all the while he had doubted if they would survive this or not. Whether Sherlock would resent him for putting him through this, Sherlock was being a better husband to John and he was in rehab. The tears of joy turned to tears of shame. When he finally composed himself he went to his laptop, looking for ways to make invisible ink. When he finally found one he felt he couldn't mess up too bad he began to write another letter. In regular ink it read:

Dear Sherlock,

I'm sure you grow bored there so enclosed are crossword puzzles in French, Spanish, German and English. Remember to use a good reading _light_ I don't want you to hurt your eyes.

-John

Once John finished he held it to the light to make sure that his second message was readable then after double checking he sealed the letter and sent it off. He then went back to the computer to look at romantic getaways for two.

Sherlock paced around the room, he was suppose to shower after the daily workout they had and even requested they give him a slightly bigger shirt because of it. Still the shower would clear his mind, the withdrawals mostly gone by now and their forced fed healthy foods cleared it all out of his system. When he emerged from the shower sometime later, he found his mail had been slipped underneath the door, one from John and another from Mycroft. Ignoring Mycroft's first, he read John's and was happy to find he had found an invisible ink solution online. It read as:

Dear Sherlock, I'm a big fucking get aren't I? Good I'm so sorry for what they're putting you through. I mean you need it but they should be treating you better. We shouldn't have to hide what we write in letters. And I should be able to see my husband whenever I want. But just put up with it a while longer. I've been thinking of you every minute since you left. I miss you so damn much. And I've been thinking about kids to ironically. Adoption or Surrogacy? And a Holiday will be perfect. You'll need one by the time you're done there.

Love John.

P.S. I tore up the divorce papers

If he could, Sherlock would have Apparated to John and kissed him on the spot. It was one of the most uplifting things he read throughout his stay. The next week and the one following after it, they cut off his ties further and tried to go deeper into his psyche to be sure he was well. Wanting to make sure no outside influences were further slowing down his treatment. And this time Sherlock was sure to play by their rules, give them all what they wanted.

"Would this happen to be the number of Doctor John Watson?"

The sudden phone call startled him when his phone went off and it was an unknown number calling. "Er yes?" He answered confused.

"Hello Doctor Watson, my name is Rachel and I work at the rehab your husband is staying at, Promis. From our progress so far we think it would be a good change of pace if you came to visit him. Mr. Holmes told us you are usually off Fridays so would tomorrow be well?"

"Yes! I mean yes. That would be great. What time? How long do I get to stay? Can I bring him anything? Sorry that's a lot of questions," John chuckled nervously.

"Three o' clock in the afternoon will do well and you have one hour. No foods and whatever else you bring might be confiscated or returned back to you. No need to upset our patients," Rachel said pleasantly, "We look forward to seeing you then, bye, bye."

John barely got any sleep that night, too excited for him mind to rest. The next day he spent most of the morning thinking about what he could sneak in to help save Sherlock from complete boredom. He found a few cold cases that Sherlock had apparently been looking into, hiding them inside his jacket pocket and headed off to Kent. The building from the outside looked like a peaceful place but once inside the atmosphere changed a bit.

"Um yes I'm Doctor Watson I'm here to see Sherlock Holmes?" once he found someone at the reception desk.

"Oh! Doctor Watson, how pleasant to meet you, I spoke to you on the phone yesterday. I am Rachel," standing to shake his hand, "Yes Sherlock, right this way."

She started to lead him down a hallway, passing closed door with the patients behind them. Eventually they ended up in the Rec room where a few other patients were, Sherlock sitting near the window, playing a game of chess by himself.

"Sherlockkkk someone to see you!" in sing song voice.

"Oh Madame, why thank you for this surprise, truly it has made my day," Sherlock smiled, relying on his velvet voice, "But really, it's not as lovely as you," he whispered into her ear and kissed her hand.

"Mr. Holmes, patients are not allowed to flirt with-"

"But of course, I am a bit of a... bad influence," he grinned and raised an eyebrow. With this Rachel blushed and quickly walked away before anything else could happen. It took all of John's self control to not laugh at his attitude towards the nurse. When she finally left them alone he embraced his husband tightly and held on for life. "Sherlock..." he whispered.

"John," he held tight and eventually letting go, indicated to the chair next to him to sit, "So I see you met Rachel she is as... pleasant as ever," his face screwing up in disgust, "God these people..."

Laughing John sat comfortably across from the detective, not wanting to take his eyes off him. "Glad to see you haven't lost your charming personality while you've been here. I did bring you something," he said pulling the papers from his jacket.

"Shhhh!" Sherlock pushed his hand back down quickly, "Somehow we'll get these into my room. Anyway how have you been coping? Everything has been exceptionally pleasant for me, I think I may have found my spiritual side too," when a male nurse walked by and eyed him suspiciously.

The army doctor held back a snort. "I've been busy with the surgery. That's really all I do. God I'm boring, remind me how someone like you got with someone like me?" He smile and hesitantly reached for Sherlock's hand he wasn't sure if it was allowed.

"It's ok. Maybe it was because you were boring that I was so attracted to you, someone to keep me grounded. At least surgery keeps you preoccupied; we have our activities, both spiritual and fitness. Also there is the daily therapy of course. I really missed you," Sherlock rubbed his hand.

"I missed you too. How many therapists have you gone through?"John weakly asked, closing his eyes at the contact of skin against skin.

"Well I did break one's nose when I got into a fit, again the withdrawals. After that I have been through two others, they are adequate for everyone else, but not for me. No understands me like you do John. Really. I am sorry to have put you through all this, it was my mistake and my fault. I needed to take responsibility for my actions and now I am paying the price. As much as I don't like it, I feel a greater appreciation for you, having to put up with someone like me."

"I...I er," John gulped. They had been married almost two years and that was one of the nicest things Sherlock had ever said to him. "I'm glad you know you need this. I'm really proud of you Sherlock. It'll all be worth it in the end. And I put up with it because I love you. And I don't want our future child ever having to know about this."

"Ohhh, so you agree? Adoption, surrogacy, either or," Sherlock smiled and his eyes light up, "That's fine with me, Hamish wouldn't want to know about this either-"

"Mr. Holmes. Mr. Holmes!" a doctor came swiftly in with Rachel behind him, "Hello Doctor Watson, but I am afraid the visit has to be cut short."

"Place it in the board game box John," Sherlock quickly whispered to him before he was escorted away, "I love you John, I am always thinking of you!"

"I apologize about this Doctor Watson, this is what happens when one does not follow protocol," Rachel shrugged her shoulders and walked away, leaving him alone.

"But what?" It was too late the nurse had already gone. John sighed, and put the papers in the game board box and headed home. He wondered what the hell happened and was further irked that he didn't even get a full hour with his husband. Bastards.

"John... you beauty... gorgeous!" Sherlock lightly bounced around his room, finding the papers hidden within the cardboard chess game. Amazing! Clever, clever man! Before he could look over the case files, he began to write immediately:

Dear John,

Thank you for the visit, I definitely raised my spirits and has made me eternally happy. Everything has faired well here, sorry about the short visit, which was my fault for the earlier incident with the nurse. I hope the hospital is not too difficult today, can't wait to see you again.

-Sherlock

Finished with that one, he wrote his second one and waited for it to dry, deciding to send it out in the morning. In the meantime these cases became his world, and he even found a couple of places to hide them, not the usual ones other patients would hide in of course. Instead, his were hidden on top of the ceiling fan, folded and taped to the top where no one would think to look. Luckily the doctors did not find Sherlock suicidal or else he wouldn't be in such a room, the risk of hanging himself.

"Case one... multiple decapitations around the outskirts of London... ohhh yessss..."

John came home tired from work but his spirits were lifted as soon as he saw Sherlock's handwriting. He read the Indian ink one quickly before holding up the letter to the light. It read :

Dearest brilliant, fantastic, amazing John, You are the greatest husband a man could ask for. I will remain on my best behavior so I can get out by next week.

Love, Sherlock

He grinned at the love letter. He began to write his reply.

Dear Sherlock,

I was very glad to have seen you. I hope next time we can get the full hour. The hospital wasn't too good today actually. Things happen.

-John.

He then look his time writing the second letter in the special ink before sealing the letter and putting it in the post. Sherlock thought he would be out in a week? That was wishful thinking. Never the less he began looking at dates for their holiday together.

"Solved two, maybe crack this third one..." Sherlock muttered to himself and began to read John's letter, until he received a knock at the door, "Y-yes?" sliding the papers underneath his pillow temporarily and acted as he was reading his letter normally.

"We would like to speak to you, now."

"Yes sir."

John was a little surprised that when he got home the next day there was no letter from his husband. Then he began to get concerned when another did not show up the next day or the day after that. On the fourth day he rang the rehab center.

"Yes this is Dr. Watson calling about my husband. Sherlock Holmes? Has there been any changes regarding him?"

"Actually we were about to call you tomorrow Doctor Watson, yes, Sherlock Holmes. Might as well know now, he can be released the day after tomorrow. Would it be ok if you picked him up or do other arrangement have to be made?" a bored med student drawled.

"No I can. That's fine, perfect, actually thank you." He hung up and grinned, the thought of him coming home.

"And you clothes and coat," Rachel presented to Sherlock, "Usually most people pack something before visiting us."

"Well my dear, as you know, my case is not _usual_. But thank you for everything, really," he nearly purred and she further reddened her face.

"Let's go meet him outside, shall we?"

The army doctor was late. Nearly four minutes and thirty seven seconds late, Sherlock estimated, a cab most likely caught within the traffic. Anxiously he tapped his foot and stopped when his doctor looked over to him.

"Nervous Holmes?"

"Nope, no, just excited!"

"Good."

"It's about bloody time!" John yelled at the cab driver as he got out. At first he ran up to Sherlock but slowed down when he saw the doctor and the nurse. Never the less he was still beaming.

"Sherlock!"

"John!" Pulling him into a hug and laughing, kissing his cheek, "Well the stay was lovely and-"

"Not. So. Fast." The Doctor stepped forward and it took Sherlock everything he had not to punch him, "Doctor Watson you just need to fill out these forms," holding up a clipboard. It was as if a needle popped a balloon, the air leaking out. Kill joy, Sherlock thought. It was another hour before they left, John was escorted into the man's office and filling out whatever official document they presented to him. Back in the cab, finished, Sherlock kissed John on the cheek again and again.

"So what did they say to you before my grand departure?"

"Oh you know the usual for this sort of thing. Don't remind you of it. Don't say the A word, addict. Move past it. And yet they said to keep an eye out and the Doctor gave me his business card in case I thought you might relapse. He wasn't too happy when I tore it up in front of his face," John smiled and held Sherlock's hand.

"Please tell me you have some brandy at home or something," Sherlock sighed and squeezed John's hand back, nudging his way underneath his chin, "Never had a problem with that."

"We have more then we used to. I needed something to keep me company when you were gone," John rested his head on Sherlock's.

"Don't tell me we have to turn around and drop you off too," Sherlock smirked and enjoyed the quiet ride back home. Opening his eyes occasionally, he enjoyed watching the people go by, the loud sounds of the living city. During the times at the Marina were the few times he was able to get out and even then it was not enough, realizing his second love, other than John, was this city. The cab stopped in front of their flat and as John paid, Sherlock exited and ran around the other side, kissing Mrs. Hudson on the way up who was dusting the stairs, and bounded into 221B.

"Oh, my! The flat, this lovely, lovely, haven!"

John followed him up the stairs and put the kettle on, taking out a tiny box with a ribbon on it and set in on the table.

"The chairs are still here! The curtains!" Sherlock hopped onto the chair and then the desk next to the window, peering out, "Mrs. Hudson still down stairs and" gasp, "My dear, dear friend," jumping off and running to the mantle picking up his precious skull, "He did not throw you away, thank goodness..."

Everything seemed relatively normal, nothing was moved, at least nothing major, and it had been kept clean, except from what Sherlock saw a good deal of help probably came downstairs. After that, he bounded into the toilet, appreciating the privacy of the shower and the mirror. Surprisingly Sherlock looked extremely healthy, no doubt the lack of drugs, forced healthy eating, and exercise.

"This is brilliant!" poking his head into the kitchen then saw the box, "what's this?" he asked breathless.

"My part of the deal." John said looking solemnly at the box.

"Huh?" Sherlock sat down and unwrapped the ribbon, but hesitated to open the lid, "Should I be scared? Is this vengeance?"

"No of course not. Sherlock you've been above and beyond my expectations. This was what I promised remember?" He didn't want this to spoil Sherlock's happy moment but he deserved to that he was safe.

Nodding, he lifted up the small box lid and found what looked like a fine white power. On top of it was John's army tags and he clutched them tight, the metal pushing deep into his skin. To distract himself, he carefully smelled the powered and with a little bit on his fingertip, gave a taste.

"...Paper? ... The divorce papers..." blinking as he looked up to his husband, "John..."

"It'll never happen again I swear. Won't even say the word," John fought back tears. "I don't ever want to be without you again Sherlock."

He really couldn't say anything. What was there to say? Instead Sherlock opted to place the plates over his head and around his neck, finding it strange to be on him than John. Then he stood up and pulled John to him, kissing him and holding him tight. Sherlock never wanted to drive John away, never again. John let the tears fall and buried his head into Sherlock's chest.

"I'm just so glad you're home. I missed you so much. I love you Sherlock."

"How long... how long was I gone again?" Sherlock didn't want to hear the answer but he had to know, "How long had I left you alone?"

"8 weeks," John replied softly running his fingers through Sherlock's curly hair.

"Damn... John... something really important that you should know," he bit his lip.

He looked curiously at his husband. "What is it?"

"The water's going to boil over."

Rolling his eyes John turned the kettle off and poured the tea. "That really wasn't that important Sherlock. What were you going to say?"

"Well I don't want to see the flat burn down," he huffed and laughed, "I would have said I missed your tea, the stuff at the other place was luke warm, stale stuff they called tea. After this, maybe some food, take away, and then break out the real man's drink?"

"Yes that sounds good. Anything else you would like to do your first night back?"

"Just you love," Sherlock smiled as he followed him in and tilted his head, John was there making him tea as always. It could have been a cuppa after a case or after a hard day at the hospital for John. Instead, they were going to have tea together because he was home. Sherlock was really home. No longer was it a mere flat together, it was something they built, something to progress further with.

"You ok?" John tilted his head in small concern when he saw Sherlock stare into the distance.

"I just can't wait for your tea is all," his husband smiled back in reassurance.

End.

(Chapter Two is a bonus chapter if you dare...)


	2. Chapter 2

**Bonus Chapter**

"I just can't wait for your tea is all," his husband smiled back in reassurance.

John wrapped his hands around Sherlock's waist and gave him a tight squeeze.

"Are you really going to tease? Where then are we going to start? I'll let you choose," Sherlock kissed the top of his head and wound his own arms on top of John's shoulders, "Did you know they even checked the bed sheets? They were very strict when keeping an eye on our behaviors."

"Oh God. No release for 8 weeks? Here. Let me help you with that." Gently John planted a kiss on Sherlock's lips but at the same time his right hand went to cupping his crotch rubbing it slightly.

What ever Sherlock was about to say next was caught in his throat and he breathed heavily into John's shoulder. His hands clutched at John's back, crumpling his shirt and his hips lightly pushed into John's hand.

"Do you think we could make it to the bedroom?"

"If you can last that long. Come on love. The bed missed you too," John laughed before he took Sherlock by the hand and led him into the bedroom.

"Ah good, this didn't change either," he noted and flopped onto the bed, sighing, "Thank you for waiting... waiting for me that is..."

John gave Sherlock another gentle kiss. "Of course, I would have waited a lot longer than 8 weeks if you needed it. You know that. I'd do anything for you."

"Yes, yes you would because that is the man I married," Sherlock gripped John's shirt and pulled him down onto him, "It's the John Watson I know."

He smiled and kissed his husband as passionately as he could. Biting on his bottom lip and unbuttoning his shirt at the same time. The detective made for John's tie, fumbling around the knot before it became loose and draped around his neck. Knowing he might regret it later and John might scold him later, Sherlock pulled the shirt apart, the buttons flying in every which direction. For a second when John pulled away, he leaned up and bit into his neck, slightly savagely.

"Sorry... they said I had a small violent side to me, but you knew that. Dropping a man multiple times out of a window I think proves that."

"Just remember I bite back love," John started trailing kisses down his neck until he reached the neck where he placed a hard bite leaving a very visible mark.

"Mff," Sherlock pushed John's shirt off his shoulders and made for the buckle of his belt, pulling it through the loops. He tossed it randomly to the side of the bed and started at his undershirt. Through the fabrics he finally felt the warmth of another human being and it was nearly precious to him. One of the best feelings in the world...

Meanwhile above him,John began trailing kisses down Sherlock's chest until he got to his naval where he successfully wriggled him out of his pants. Once again he started rubbing his crotch through his boxers he could feel him completely hard. By now he was moaning John's name and squirming underneath him. Sherlock would have liked to roam his hands on John, except eight weeks cold turkey melted him into a puddle, unable to control his limbs. Instead he allowed instinct to take over, bucking his hips up and his body pressing up, pleading for more.

"Yeah you missed me," John chuckled and began slowly pulling down Sherlock's boxers, "But I missed you too." With that the head of his cock disappeared into John's mouth. He bobbed up and down on it; he had missed the taste and the feel of it in his mouth.

His hand flew to his mouth, trying not to scream. Everything was extra sensitive for him and Sherlock felt at home inside John's warm, wet mouth. Slowly becoming used to it, his hand sifted through the blonde hair and held tightly, feeling every flicker of John's tongue.

"John... fuck..."

"Yes that is the idea Sherlock. Fuck." With that he took his own undergarments off and pressed their cocked together, hissing at the contact. He took his hand and wrapped it around both of them and slowly began to jack them off.

"I can't!" Sherlock whined and was unsure what he wanted to do. Finally he sat up on his elbows and pushed John onto his side. Keeping his waist near John's face, his hands grubbed for his husband's cock and managed to fit it into his mouth. Sighing, Sherlock ran his own tongue along the under shaft and around the rim, teasing him.

"Hgnn Sherlock!" John bucked his hips involuntarily and he barely could fit Sherlock back in his mouth. It had been just as long for John and Sherlock always did have a way of using his tongue.

"Who do you want to... oh God, do the fucking?"

"I- I don't know!" Sherlock moaned, both their tongues on each other was beginning to drive him mad, "Maybe a bit- shit... bit of both... I don't know..."

"Right then." John managed to get himself under Sherlock and then flip him on his back placing John on top. He spread his husband's legs wide open. Quickly John grabbed the lube from the night stand and slicked himself up. Gently he pushed the tip of his cock inside his lover, when he was sure Sherlock could take it he slammed himself in filling him up completely.

There was not a time Sherlock could recall John being this hard before, maybe not even this aggressive, of course Sherlock did not object to this not at all. Filled with the army doctor inside him his back arched upwards and he had to do something with his hands. It ended up his left hand fingers started to be suckled by his mouth while his right gripped his manhood tight, trying to stay in rhythm with John, failing, too lost in his own sea of ecstasy.

John pounded into his husband with extreme vigor. He missed this. He needed this and fuck Sherlock felt good. The look on his face was one of pure bliss and it was driving him mad. The speed doubled knowing well that Sherlock would be feeling it tomorrow. The moaning and whimpering were mixing in chorus, Sherlock pushing his hips up eagerly to meet with John and pressed his head further into the sheets. His body was hot, beginning to sweat and even a few beads were dripping from the curls of his hair, falling on his face.

"Maybe...umph... maybe I should go away more often," he chuckled.

John gripped Sherlock's hair and yanked it back. "Don't you _dare_!" He growled thrusting into him angrily.

The roughness was beginning to take his toll on Sherlock, biting into his fist when his partner pounded him in. All this time the pressure from behind was beginning to build and when he glanced up to John to see his aggressiveness, it all went straight back to his prick.

"John...please...soon...fuck," Sherlock whimpered, feeling the throbbing thickness in his hand. He looked at his husband and reached around to grab his cock. Rapidly John jacked him off feeling how close he was to completion. This was the best make up sex John had ever had and he wanted to make sure Sherlock felt the same. Also he increased the pace at which he was thrusting and felt himself getting ready to slip over the edge.

Gripping John's shoulder, he pulled the man on him into a rough kiss, themselves further pressed into the other. Without meaning to Sherlock bit down on John's lip and made one buck up with his hips, the hot white, cum splashing on their stomachs. Then John would have screamed if Sherlock's mouth hadn't been on his. He felt himself spill inside Sherlock and collapsed on top of his husband panting. He didn't care what a hot sticky mess they were he just smiled and laughed.

"Tell me that was not the best make up sex you ever had?"

Gasping and attempting to swallow air, Sherlock merely nodded and then winced when John had pulled out of him, even some extra of John dripped out of him. Neither of them cared and neither of them wanted to move, so Sherlock flipped onto his side and held him close, brushing small kisses on his forehead and cheeks. John smiled at the kisses and pulled Sherlock to him. He was so glad to have him back, and he wasn't letting him go anytime soon.

"I hope you can understand how much I love you, truly. I full regret my previous actions it was just... shame and fear to come to you about my condition because it... it would have broke this wall, showing how vulnerable I could be and I was scared. Losing you would kill me and it would do so tortuously and slowly," Sherlock bit his lip and swallowed.


End file.
